


Chained by Moonlight

by Bakunawa



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 02:05:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10526604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bakunawa/pseuds/Bakunawa
Summary: He remembered the intensity of his first.  The sudden increase of all sensations was both spectacularly overwhelming and terrifyingly painful.  It was his first taste of power; his first a bite of madness.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was not beta-ed nor proofread before posting. I promise there are a lot of mistakes, typos, grammatical errors--it's a mess, basically. I am very open to constructive criticisms and corrections though.

Out of all the first transformations they had seen, Enris’ was the longest and the most subdued.

 

Where they expected raging howls and a roaring frenzy, she writhed and moaned and yelped on the cave floor.  Where the change for others were painfully instantaneous for their first time, hers was like watching leather stretch and tear.

 

Not once had Vilkas thought how terrible small the bosmer was.  Hearing her bones crack, split and snap only proven his general reluctance in her induction to the Circle.

 

She’s more mage than warrior, he had argued, a weed amongst the trees with her petite stature and flimsy wrists.  A tad too delicate for the brute work of mercenaries, in his opinion.

 

But Enris had proven herself, time and again, as a valuable ally and member of the Companions.  Even if it was by the skin of her teeth.  A true runt of the whelps, for sure.

 

And since her induction was voted upon, three to one, Vilkas had to grudgingly concede.

 

\--

 

The transformation was complete and she was still alive.  Panting and whining and shivering like a beaten pup.  

 

What once was olive skin, turned to dark impenetrable hide.  Once dainty hands, were grotesquely clawed.  And her tawny eyes were forever changed to moonlight silver.

 

But even after the transformation, Vilkas could still distinguish her… _elvish traits_.  With a morphed Aela next to her, it was all too obvious.

 

Where the huntress had the height and bulk almost equal to any of her male counterparts, Enris was svelte with a narrower nozzle and twitching ears bigger than normal.  And her fur was an irksome grey.

 

“Could it be that she’s bosmer?” Farkas asked out loud, “We never had a mer join the Circle before, had we?”

 

Vilkas found the question quite absurd and bothersome.  They would have to consult the Harbinger’s archive and since the Companions were never known for their recordkeeping, he doubted they would find an accurate answer.

 

\--

 

He remembered the intensity of his first.  The sudden increase of all sensations was both spectacularly overwhelming and terrifyingly painful.  It was his first taste of power; his first a bite of madness.

 

But Enris acted more confounded and curious in her altered form.  Vilkas saw a conscious intelligence in her eyes rather than the usual blind aggression a newly transformed had.   She met his gaze with effortless clarity, something that was unexpected and a tad bit unnerving for him.

 

She recognized Aela as her Forebear, sniffing and keeping her head low as a show of submission.  She was twitchy, however, altering between standing on her hind legs and on all fours like an unsteady newborn.  But Aela kept close with what it seemed like encouragement and affection, as she led their newest initiated through the secret tunnels of the Underforge that led out to the open fields.

 

\--

 

The sky was turning to a sweet shade of purple and Vilkas was still waiting for Aela and Enris’ return.  

 

Their first run together had the women out farther than Vilkas liked.  Enris had quickly taken a more than enthusiastic fit the moment they were out of the Underforge and had sprinted out into the fields with Aela close by.  Vilkas had kept a good pace following them with his horse and a pack bearing their clothes and armor.  But morning was almost upon them and he was growing weary of the wait.

 

He was about to step onto his saddle and search for his shield-sisters when Aela--bare, worn out, filthy with blood and dirt--emerged from the trees with Enris nowhere in sight.

 

“Everything all right?” Vilkas called out, peevish, as he urged his horse by the reins to come closer to Aela, “Where is she?”

 

“A cave,” Aela panted, reaching for a canteen first, gulping down heavily half of the water before answering again, “Not far from here.  She found a troll.  We killed it… but she has not shifted back.”

 

Irksome, Vilkas thought.  To his knowledge, only Kodlak could maintain the transformation the longest and that the current Harbinger’s endurance was begotten through his years in the Circle.

 

“Stay here and rest,” Vilkas sighed, “I’ll retrieve her.”

 

Aela only nodded before unbuckling the pack with her armor from his horse.

 

\--

 

He found the cave easily.  It stenched as filthy and disgusting as any troll cave.  He also found the dead troll, mangled beyond recognition in a heap along the cave wall.

 

Farther into the cave was Enris, crouched and as still as stone, watching him with unflinching silver eyes.  She was covered with blood--nozzle, claws and fur--as if she bathed in it.  Whether it was hers or the troll’s, he did not know.

 

“Time to change back, whelp,” he said.  His voice echoed louder than he anticipated.  

 

“You only need to draw the blood back in.  Pull it back in,” he added, attempting to be calm and assuring but failed to keep the annoyance from his voice.  Enris remained unmoved, however.  

 

“Have you had enough fun and games?”  He took a step forward and was met with a low growl, wary yet challenging.  

 

“Cease this!”  He took another step and her hackles stood up with her teeth fully bared.

 

“Well, you’ve asked for it,” he growled and jerkingly stripped his armor.  

 

He was beyond irritated with this pup.  The moment she stepped into Jorrvaskr, skittishly asking to join the Companions, she had been nothing but a constant aggravation.  She became even more of a splinter under his skin since after she bested him in a combat demonstration using a short blade sword that she could not even hold properly.

 

He had enough!  It was time to show her how to stand in line.

 

\--

 

The shift was instantaneous and almost like breathing after holding one’s breath underwater for too long.  And it had been a long while since his last.

 

The tackle, however, was unanticipated.  

 

The new werewolf came bounding down on him with claws extended.  But Vilkas was the more seasoned warrior.  He caught her arms and, using her own momentum, flung her away from him.  

 

She rolled violently a few times, yelping in pain.  It took a moment to get back on her feet.  Exhaustion was evident on her trembling legs.  She had been running around all night, even battled a troll, that Vilkas was surprised she had not passed out cold yet.

 

Discipline, that was what she needed.  She needed to recognize authority and control.  

 

With a mighty roar, Vilkas leaped over to her and pushed her back down.  But the young wolf was still too spritely to be kept down.  They began wrestling for dominance with fangs and claws and violent roars.

 

\--

 

Enris was slippery and vicious, assaulting his eyes and ears and taking every advantage of her smaller form.  But Vilkas was an unrelenting mass of rage and soon enough he had her slammed bodily down the cave dirt with enough force to knock the air out of her lungs.  

 

He pinned her down--both arms locked in his claws, the back of her thighs pinned beneath his knees and the back of her neck between his teeth.  She squirmed violently, clawing her way out from under him, and was awarded with more pressure, his fangs painfully slicing through the skin.

 

For a long while the cave was filled with a low angry rumble and pained whimpers.

 

\--

 

When the younger wolf grew silent and still beneath him, Vilkas slowly released his hold on her neck.  His fangs had pierced her skin, he had come to realize, warm blood had filled his mouth.  

 

He never had longed for the taste until that moment.  It felt like hunger.

 

He licked the blood off his teeth and nozzle and soon he began licking it off her.

 

Enris remained very still under his ministration but her eyes remained wide, watching him.  She bucked up once, more of a show of defiance than an attempt to escape.  The male wolf beared down on her again, growling and baring his teeth closer to her face.  

 

She whimpered pathetically, whining an almost apology.  It was futile to defy him, she should understand.

 

He was the bigger wolf.  He was the stronger wolf.  He could very well snap her neck between his teeth if she was not part of his pack.  

 

Whelps needed to understand the order of things and stay in line.  Until she had proven herself a better warrior than him, a better beast, otherwise, she still belonged to the bottom of the hierarchy.  She belonged beneath him.

 

Curiously, he felt a stirring.

 

\--

 

Vilkas was not unforgiving.  Even under the haziness of the Beast Blood, he still recognized her as his shield-sister.  She was still part of his pack--a pup to be disciplined, yes, but also to be protected.

 

He was not unforgiving, that was the truth.  

 

He eased his hold of her, almost gently, lifting his bulk off slowly as he sniffed her face and ears and resumed licking her neck.  She did not attempt any sudden movement again, perhaps due to exhaustion and pain.

 

Pain was a good teacher, he had come to understand a long time ago.  And he was hopeful she would accept this lesson well and act accordingly from there.

 

If not… then, well… there would be more pain.

 

\--

 

Vilkas could sense the Beast Blood in her veins was simmering down.  He could practically smell it ebbing in waves, even before her body started to shift back.  

 

Her animalistic whimpering turned to groaning as her skin cooled and shrank and her bones resettled.  He eased his hold on her arms but did not release her entirely as he too reined in his beast back.

 

It had always been difficult for Vilkas to pull back his leash on the the Beast Blood.  Even more so when time between transformations had been too long apart.  It felt equal to refusing food and water when one was starving to death.  

 

For Vilkas, the call of the blood was an addiction more sinister than skooma.  And like any other addiction, the withdrawals were always the killer.

 

\--

 

His retransformation might have taken longer than expected because after shaking off the heavy fog from his mind, Vilkas was surprised to discover a pair of moonlight silver eyes watching him.

 

She was breathing deeper and calmer while he panted for air.  Her face was a blank mask, unreadable and still.  She did not speak and he would have thought her asleep, prone beneath him, if not for the way she looked at him with an intensity of a brewing tempest.

 

Even without her words, he could still discern traces of aggression and anger permeating through her pores.  Enris had never been openly hostile towards him until today.  She had always been an evasive character.  She circled around, assaulting with verbal barbs and passive-aggressive quips, instead of charging through.

 

But the Beast Blood could bring forth all forms of demons and she was only freshly initiated.  He could blame it on call of the blood.  He was the older wolf of the pack, he knew how hard the struggle to deny the blood all too well.  

 

\--

 

With the grey fur gone, her naked skin was a canvas covered by grime and blood with wounds still bleeding.  The back of her neck and shoulders were a mangled mess.  Her silver hair unrecognizable from the matte of drying blood.

 

Remorse immediately seized him.

 

Vilkas released his hold of her arms and watched her fingers clenched and unclenched on the dirt.  She visibly relaxed, quietly sighed, as he stood away from her.  He could see the full extent of her wounds even more from where he stood.

 

Guilt throbbed like an infected wound in his belly.

 

\--

 

After strapping on his armor back on, Vilkas found a small vial of healing potion from his pouch.  It might be enough to remedy the worst of her’ wounds until they could retrieve more from bag on his horse or visit the temple.

 

Enris had lain on her side sometime while he donned his armor.  But as soon as she heard his footsteps coming closer, she slowly curled in on herself, reminding him of a flower thrown in embers.  An apt analogy, he thought morosely.

 

Guilt tasted sour on his tongue as he inhaled fear and confusion from her.  

 

“Enris?” he said tentatively, quietly kneeling a good distance from the young wolf.  He reckon he would have to approach her like any injured beast: with utmost caution.

 

“Enris, can you hear me?” he tried again. She kept unmoved and quiet, eyes shut as if asleep, but a deep intake of breath was her only response that she heard him.

 

He moved closer, uncorking the vial.  “Here, take this,” he said, holding the potion.  His other hand, however, hovered over her shoulder, almost afraid to touch her again.

 

“It’s too much,” she whispered.  

 

“What is too much?” Vilkas asked.

 

“Everything,” she sighed, finally opening her eyes.  

 

Vilkas understood.  He understood the explosion of sensations--every footstep was like a bang of a drum right by your ear, every color was blinding, every scent was suffocating, every touch was electrifying.    Yes, he understood her all too well.  

 

“Is it always like this?” she asked him, words slurring like a sleepy drunk.

 

“Aye,” he answered sincerely, voice equally hushed.

 

And there would always be the hunger, he wanted to add.  There would be a hunger that would never be satiated--the hunger to run, to hunt and to kill.  She would realize it soon enough.

 

Enris unclenched her hand and slowly brought it up to the scant light the cave offered.  She stared at her filthy hand as if seeing it with new eyes.  Vilkas remembered making a similar gesture after his first transformation.

 

“Fascinating,” she mouthed.  

 

He scoffed at the word.

 


End file.
